


The Opportune Time

by fennecfawkes



Series: Relief [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Makes the Best Pancakes, Domestic Avengers, Drinking Coffee with Tony Stark, Established Relationship, Gabbing Like Gals with Natasha Romanov, Love and Marriage, M/M, Mission Fic, Stratego, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennecfawkes/pseuds/fennecfawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a mission, a missed brunch, and talk of marriage. Not my characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Did you set a date yet?”

Phil turns away from the coffeemaker to face Tony, who’s shaking his head.

“Why did you propose if you don’t intend to actually get married?” Phil hands Tony a coffee mug. It’s an unspoken arrangement—Tony orders Phil’s favorite coffee from Hawaii, which happens to be ludicrously expensive, and Phil occasionally allows him to share it. They’re both up early today; Phil has a meeting with Nick at 8, and it’s likely Tony never went to bed. Phil was hard-pressed to leave Clint behind in the bed on their now-shared floor, but he’d be back before Clint woke up. Hopefully.

“We’ll get married eventually,” says Tony, waving his hand dismissively. “Pep’s got a few loose ends to tie up in Malibu, and as soon as she moves over to the New York office and into the Tower, we can start talking about doing this thing. Also, it’s hard to book any substantial space in Central Park, even when you’re a superhero.” He takes a long sip before adding, “Anyway, it’s not like I’m the only one dragging my feet here. You and Barton have been together how long now?”

“Half a year,” Phil says. “When was it you first got together with Pepper?”

Tony mumbles something back. Phil hears the words “complicated” and “distance” and “resolutions.”

“What was that?”

“Years, OK? We’ve been together for years.”

“So I hardly think six months counts as dragging my feet,” says Phil.

“I bet you’ve had a ring since two weeks in.”

“One, actually,” Phil says, and he smirks when Tony, predictably, splutters a bit, coffee dripping down his chin. “I know marriage is the endgame with Clint. I’m just not entirely certain when it will be.” He pauses. “Probably before you set a date for your wedding.”

“I guess a Barton/Coulson wedding wouldn’t be a lavish affair,” says Tony. “No need for planning when it’s just a couple of guys in suits who probably didn’t even invite their friends.”

“I imagine it’ll happen in the boring part of Illinois, where my mother can weep and my father can clap Clint on the shoulder and say something embarrassing.”

“Have you ever been embarrassed in your life? Be honest.”

“A month ago, when Clint met my parents and my dad asked Clint if he had a thing for emotional repression.”

“I like your dad,” says Tony. “I didn’t know he met your parents.”

“We were on a mission in Peoria. We didn’t specify that it was work-related.”

“Adorable.”

“We try,” Phil says dryly. “Anyway, my parents approved, as did my sister and her husband, and we couldn’t unfasten my niece Kaya’s arms from around Clint’s neck, so I suppose he has her approval as well.”

“Did you ever doubt that they’d approve of Barton?” asks Tony.

“No, but he did.”

“Of course he did.”

“Have you met Pepper’s parents?”

“Before we were together,” says Tony. “I’m still working on convincing them I’m not an asshole. Actually, can we talk about something fun now?”

Phil looks at his watch. “Nope. I need to get to HQ. Thanks for not judging me when I told you I bought my boyfriend a ring a week into our relationship.”

“Your relationship has been going for years,” says Tony. “Just without the sex part.”

“That’s fair,” Phil says, putting down his coffee and walking out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a meeting and an ill-timed phone call.

The meeting would be dull if it was with anyone but Nick, who probably scheduled it to get out of countless other meetings. What starts as a debrief about SHIELD’s new requirements for baby agent combat training quickly devolves into Nick describing, in detail, Sitwell’s courtship of a naïve SHIELD scientist.

“She’s the human incarnation of Bambi,” says Nick. “And ever since he broke things off with Hill, Jasper’s been looking for the furthest thing from her. This girl is definitely that.”

“Speaking of Hill—”

“No.”

“But didn’t you say that—”

“No, Phil.” Nick rolls his eye. Phil would never admit it, but this still unnerves him every time. “Not everyone can meet their one true love at work and miraculously end up together, despite literally dying in the process.”

“If you ever want to talk about it—”

“Do I look like a man who wants to talk about it?”

“That’s fair.” Phil looks over Nick’s shoulder at the clock on the wall. It’s one of six, each displaying a different time zone on its slate grey face. “I should go. Team brunch.”

“Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“Not joking.” Phil stands and grabs his jacket. “If there are any emergencies that arise, please hold off till after 1pm. Banner makes the best pancakes.”

Nick just shakes his head, and Phil walks back to the Tower, picking up cupcakes for Clint and himself on the way. He doesn’t need to get into Clint’s good graces—he’s pretty sure he’s taken up residence there permanently—but it’s never a bad idea to do something nice for him.

Phil walks onto their floor and into the bedroom, where, as predicted, Clint’s still sleeping. It’s going on 10, but Phil is fully aware of Clint’s sleeping habits; he’d felt the need to say something when Clint stumbled up to the main floor bleary-eyed at 3pm about five months back. Now, anytime past 10 is a rare treat, so Phil doesn’t feel too guilty as he sits on the edge of the bed and rubs Clint’s back till Clint turns over, stretches, and smiles.

“Gorgeous,” says Clint, and Phil resists the urge to shake his head. He’s still not entirely sure what Clint sees to make him say this sort of thing, but he’ll accept it.

“So are you.” Phil reaches down and ruffles Clint’s already sleep-mussed hair. “Good sleep?”

“It’s always a little worse after you leave,” Clint admits. “No one’s stopping you from getting back in here.”

“I’m wearing a suit now,” says Phil. “Now there’s no going back. Besides, Bruce is making pancakes.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Clint sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, giving Phil a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Am I decent?”

“No shirt. They’ve seen you in less, but I’d rather get this to myself as much as possible.”

Clint throws him a lazy salute. “Yes, sir. See you in ten.” Just as he’s about to walk away, both their phones ring. They exchange a look, and Phil answers his.

“Didn’t I say no interruptions till after 1?” he asks.

“I need you, Barton, and Romanov in Bogota,” says Nick. “Just texted Barton and Romanov the same. Sitwell’s team’s been compromised. They’ve taken him and two of his team hostage.”

“And there’s no one else you can send?”

Nick swears under his breath. “You know I can’t send someone green for this. Sitwell may be a jackass, but he’s damn good at his job, and this is unprecedented. Plane takes off in half an hour.”

“So, getting the band back together, then?” Phil sighs. “OK. You better have pancakes for us on that plane.” He hangs up and looks at Clint, who’s still staring at his phone. “At least this time it’s both of us, right?”

“Fury’s not going to get us pancakes, is he?” Clint sighs and stretches. “How long do we have?”

“We should be on the plane in about 25 minutes,” says Phil. “Go. Shower. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll get Natasha.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a plane ride and the band gets back together.

Clint’s still bleary-eyed when they take off. Natasha’s sharp as ever, as are her knives, which she’s pruning with the kit Phil got her for Christmas. She’s sitting opposite Phil and Clint, legs curled underneath her.

“I haven’t been to Bogota since before I was SHIELD,” she says to Phil—quietly, as Clint’s nodding off against his shoulder and Phil feels that familiar swell of affection. “It’s rather beautiful when you’re not doing something deadly. And perhaps when you are as well.”

“I was there, oddly enough, with Sitwell before I knew either of you,” Phil says. “Milk run. Just like this was supposed to be. We had a decent time.”

“Do we know anything about the mole?”

“File’s on the seat next to you.”

Natasha picks up the file and opens it. Flipping through the papers, she says, “They should know by now not to trust these aggressively innocent-looking little girls.”

“She’s 28.”

Natasha shrugs one shoulder. “And she doesn’t look a day over 16. Mutant? Any supernatural abilities?”

“None. She did earn top scores of her year in infiltration and hand-to-hand.”

“I do like a challenge,” says Natasha. “How long till we land?”

“Five hours,” Phil says. “Should we let him sleep the whole time?”

“You know as well as I do to wake him up as soon as the plane begins descending.” Natasha smiles slightly. “He still loves flying just as much as he did the day you started teaching him to fly a quinjet.”

Phil nods. “Stratego?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Two games later, they're on the ground. Phil wouldn’t ever admit it to Nick, but he does miss leading a strike team, and it’s not too bad, being back. It’s bright out—and will be for hours—but Natasha’s always been good at forging a surreptitious way through a foreign city. Clint claims the rooftop nearest to the building where Sitwell’s communicator died, and Phil holes up in the SHIELD safehouse till he gets the call from Natasha. It doesn’t take long.

“Do we want to wait on this?” she asks. “How concerned are we about how much danger they’re in?”

“Depends,” says Phil. He’s already out of the safehouse and on his way to her coordinates. “How many of them are there?”

“Hard to say. I’ve seen seven, but my guess is they’re holding Sitwell and his team in the bunker that’s very clearly underneath the building. They’ve been trailing in and out of its entrance. It’s set up like a cellar.” “So you think their guards have eyes on him down there?”

“Most likely. Otherwise he’d have escaped by now, right?”

“That’s also hard to say. Jasper’s good, but he’s not phenomenal.”

“OK, gang.” Clint’s voice comes through Phil’s communicator. “I have eyes on the entrance to the bunker. Should I take the next shot?”

“No, we’re going more subtle than that,” says Phil. “Where are you, Hawkeye?”

“Oh, we’re doing code names now? Just like old times!” says Clint. “It’s a building opposite the one Sitwell’s in. Stucco. Kind of beige, a little bit pink. Hideous.” Natasha snickers. “Join me?”

“How’d you even get up here?” Phil asks, coming up behind Clint and crouching down next to him. “I had to throw a rock at the ladder.”

“There were plenty of semi-reliable footholds along the side of the building,” Clint says, grinning. “How’d you get here so fast? Do you have any idea how hot it is, you sneaking up on me like that?”

“You heard me.”

“Of course I did. Still hot, though.”

“You boys are going to make me sick if you keep up that kind of chatter,” says Natasha. Phil can hear the smile in her tone. “How do we want to do this?”

“Next time that door opens, Hawkeye’s going to take out whoever comes through, assuming they’re not SHIELD,” says Phil. “Widow, you’ll go in and see how many people we’re dealing with. If it’s under six after Hawkeye’s shot—shots, hopefully—you’re on your own.”

“Why are they opening the door so often, anyway?” Clint asks. “It’s not very subtle.”

“Couldn’t tell you that, Hawkeye,” says Natasha. “But they’re doing it again. And lucky us, they’re sending out three this time.”

“Take the shot,” Phil says. “Then take it again. And again.”

“Yes, sir,” says Clint, and within seconds, all three men are lying in a heap on the grass. Natasha steps over them carefully.

“Widow, you’re up.” Phil turns to Clint and says, “Nice work.”

“Glad I haven’t gotten too rusty,” says Clint, grinning. “Widow, what’s it look like?”

“One cell, three people inside, looks like ours,” Natasha says, keeping her voice as low as possible. “Three men watching them, three more on and around the stairs. A little help?”

“Hawkeye, hold your position. Widow, I’ll be right down.” Phil leans toward Clint and kisses him, hopefully quiet enough that Natasha doesn’t hear.

“Phil,” Clint says, pulling at his sleeve as he begins to rise. “I—marry me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a Karate Kid reference, but only one, and a rescue.

Very little can stop Phil from infiltrating a drug running operation where fellow agents were being held hostage, but a marriage proposal—well, that seems worth a few extra seconds on the rooftop.

“Is this really the best time, Hawkeye?” Natasha whispers sharply.

“I’m wondering the same thing,” says Phil. “I mean, obviously, the answer is yes, there’s a reason I’ve been carrying around this ring for five months and three weeks." He feels his back pocket. Still there, thank God. "But ... now? Really, Clint?”

“What if I don’t get another chance?” Clint asks.

“There’s six guys in there who don’t expect a world class assassin and a guy who looks like an accountant but punches very accurately,” says Phil. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be seeing me again. And then we can talk about this. But, as I said, yeah, we can iron out some details when we’re back in New York, OK?”

“OK.” Clint smiles and pulls Phil down so he can kiss him again. By the time Phil’s hit the ground and is standing next to Natasha, she’s gotten past disbelief and is merely amused.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” she says.

“Not now, though,” says Phil. “Also, I think we’ve gotten sloppy, because Sitwell can hear us.” Jasper’s staring at them from across the room. Phil jerks his head to the right, hoping Jasper will remember that the guards can see him, can see him seeing Phil. And, oh, they have.

“You take the ones in front of the cell,” Phil says. “I’ll handle these guys on the stairs.”

“On it,” says Natasha, and Phil takes a moment to admire her grace and precision as she tosses a knife that slices cleanly through the biggest one’s forearm. The guys on the stairs, startled, begin making their way toward the big guy; Phil heads them off and makes sure to sweep the leg, just once—it’s something he and Clint agreed to do often as possible long ago, on their sixth day in the same Irkutsk safehouse, under the influence of far too many scotch and sodas. He walks back toward the cell, where Natasha is letting out the captors. Sitwell looks appropriately embarrassed, and his fellow team members won’t say a word.

“Where’s your defector?” Phil asks Jasper.

“Upstairs,” says Jasper. “On the phone with Fury for the past hour, negotiating terms. I think he might be stalling her for your sake.”

“He’s a good friend in that way,” Phil says. “Widow?”

Natasha nods and heads for the stairs.

“Hawkeye? We got the bad guys. Widow’s dealing with Jasper’s lost cause.”

“How come I don’t get a code name?” Jasper asks.

“You don’t deserve one,” says Phil. “Want to join the party, Hawkeye?”

“I’m already here,” Clint announces, walking through the door. “Hey, kiddos, don’t be scared. We’re not going to ream your asses for this one. Sitwell, on the other hand...”

“I suppose my ass may deserve some reaming,” admits Jasper. “Oh, hi, Olivia, how kind of you to join us. Hawkeye, Coulson, this is the newest traitor I know.”

Natasha’s leading Olivia, a sullen-looking girl who does indeed appear to be in her late teens, by the elbow. Olivia’s lip is split and she’s limping slightly, which Phil thinks she probably deserves. And making this mission worthwhile for Natasha seems fair, since he and Clint are both one fiancé richer than they were when they arrived on the scene.

“Can we go home now?” Natasha asks. “I’m very, very excited to tell the team your news.”

“We don’t get to tell the team we’re getting married?” Clint asks. “That’s on you now?”

“Wait, you’re engaged?” Jasper gapes at Phil. “When did that happen?”

“About fifteen minutes ago,” says Phil. “Clint could work on his finesse. And I think we owe her, anyway. She did have to hear the whole thing. Over comms, no less.”

“OK, I’ll allow it,” Clint says, leaning against Phil and taking his hand. “Which way to the safehouse?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is brunch. Finally.

“I really have been carrying around a ring since a week into our relationship,” says Phil. “Our official relationship, that is. Stark says we’ve been together for years. It’s just the sex that’s relatively new.”

“He’s not entirely right,” Clint says, running a finger along his ring. They’re sitting opposite each other on their bed, taking a breather from the constant mockery with which they’ve been assaulted since Natasha announced their engagement hours before. “I wasn’t allowed to compliment you before. And I guess I could’ve told you about the circus and all that, but I wasn’t going to.”

“I’m glad you feel that you can now,” says Phil, admiring his own ring. Clint didn’t buy it five months ago; instead, he’d had it made out of the bullet that strafed his arm when Phil first recruited him. (“No one else thought it was romantic when I told them,” Clint had said sadly on the way back from Bogota, pulling the ring from his back pocket. “Can’t imagine why,” Natasha had said dryly.) It had taken months to get the design right. Phil’s gesture hadn’t been as grand; he just had an arrowhead design lasered onto a tungsten carbide ring, but Clint claims to love it, and that’s good enough for Phil.

“Of course I feel that I can now,” Clint says. “Don’t know if I’ve said it enough times, but I love you.”

“You’ve said it plenty, but I’m never going to get over hearing it,” says Phil. “I love you, too.” He leans over and kisses Clint on the forehead. “Now, are you ready for some pancakes?”

“Depends,” Clint says. “Are they still going to taste as good when Stark’s making jokes that stopped being funny before—well, when Stark’s making jokes that weren’t ever funny?”

“I imagine so,” says Phil. “Especially if I have my hand on your thigh.”

“That’s my thing for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll borrow your move for once if it makes you happy.”

“A lot of the things you do make me happy.” Clint’s grinning. He hasn’t really stopped since they exchanged rings. “And no, I’m not ready.” Phil can feel both their grins disappear as Clint kisses him practically breathless, which he should certainly not be able to do anymore, considering how often they’ve done this. But it never gets any less incredible, Clint’s impatience showing through with every prod of his tongue against the roof of Phil’s mouth. Phil moves closer to Clint, who responds enthusiastically, lying down and pulling Phil with him, slotting their hips together, tugging at Phil’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“How far do you want to go?” Phil asks Clint when he’s given a moment to catch his breath.

“You know I don’t do things halfway, Phil.” Clint rolls his hips and Phil can’t quite bite back a moan. “I hope you’re alright with being late to brunch.”

As it turns out, Phil is. Roughly half an hour later, they make their way to the communal kitchen, hand in hand. Natasha rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Tony looks like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by the sheer goodness that is Bruce Banner.

“You almost missed them,” Bruce says, handing Phil and Clint a plate stacked with pancakes. “Those are for both of you to share. Assuming you’re comfortable eating off the same plate.”

“We did that even when we weren’t dating,” says Clint. “Now we’re getting married.”

“Yes, we’re all well aware,” says Tony. “Did anyone call Thor? Does Thor have a phone?”

“He certainly does, judging from the ear-splitting message on my voicemail,” Phil says. “He sends his regards, by the way. And Jane’s. They’ll be in New York next week.”

“How are the pancakes?” asks Bruce. “I tweaked the recipe.”

“Fucking amazing as always,” Clint says. “You sure there aren’t any more?”

“Sadly, no,” says Bruce, smiling. “But there is more bacon ready to be cooked. Steve, you look bored.”

“I’m not,” Steve says, looking up from his and Natasha’s game of Stratego. “I’m strategizing.”

“She’ll win,” says Phil. “She never loses.”

“I can try.”

“You’re going to do the responsible thing and cook the bacon, aren’t you?” Clint turns to look at Phil.

Phil sighs. “Of course I am.”

“You know I love you for it,” says Clint.

“I hope that’s not the only reason.”

“Eh, it’s up there.”

Phil shakes his head and stands, kissing Clint on the crown of the head as he goes. He leans down and says into Clint’s ear, “It’ll be nice. Being married to you.”

“Couldn’t agree more, sir,” says Clint, kissing him. “Now, make me some bacon, would you?”

“Glad to know what I’m good for.”

“I’ll never stop letting you know.”


End file.
